Ivory
by LarcSakurai
Summary: Rufus remembers back to when he was truly alive, before his one true love and purpose was taken away from him. Inspired by an RP idea and a piano version of Carol of the Bells


There was no need to think. Slender fingers dancing over pale ivory with the passion of a tender lover. This was his place. It had always been his place. This was what he was born to do, unconsiously he knew this was his true purpose. Eyes fluttering shut his fingers continued to dance, waltz, samba, jitterbug, anything he willed they did. Chords and angelic harmonies echoed through the vast company, spreading a blanket of tranquility over the emptiness, filling this loneliness with meaning. Nothing else mattered. Nothing. Not mako, not the company, not his father. Nothing. Through waves of sound he drifted on clouds of dreams and promises. As a lover he brushed the smooth skin, as an appraiser he scrutinized the sheer perfection of the polised oak frame. As a musician he appreciated everything about her.

Rufus was in love. He was madly in love with this divine music, the only thing in the world that ever dared to love the dangerous boy back. They sang together, he and the ivory, they laughed and cried and loved together. This was his Promised Land. It was untouchable, only he could see it. Only he could experience it. The beauty swelled around him, engulfing his senses and consuming him. This was his passion, his one true love. There were no words exchanged, there was naught a reason to speak. Forget the past. Forget the future. The only time that mattered was now. The elegance of her song, the electric brush against his fingertips, the rush of adrenaline of a completed piece. That was all that mattered.

A boy and his ivory.

Eyes shot up from newspapers comics as the husky aroma of rich men's cologne suffocated the little shop. It was nothing particularly fancy, a little hole in the wall sort of establishment nestled in the tangle of alleys that was central Midgar. A simple music shop warranting a visit from the President fell upon those present as an ill omen. Wherever Rufus went dark tidings were bound to follow. When the man settled himself at the counter and regarded the shopkeeper with every intent to be taken seriously, the old round man readied himself for whatever karmic backlash had been prepared for him.

"Can I help you Mr. President?" there was no attempt to mask the obvious disdain the older gentleman felt for the younger.

"I herad this shop is reknowned for its pianos. Do I hear correctly?" Intense blue eyes drifted lazily around the store before coming to rest on the most beautiful piano the young man had ever seen tucked away in a back corner.

"Oh, that one's nice..." the shopkeeper's voice grew an edge, "but she's not for sale."

"May I?" Rufus strode to the grand instrument, the old man about having a heart attack when he settled down behind it.

"Now just you wait a damn minute!" the old man's face burned cherry red. "I don't care who you are, don't you dare touch..." Need for words disappeaeed as the slow, full legato of a moonlight sonata swelled from the ivory and struck the chords within hearts that drive even the hardest and coldest of men to tears. The shopkeep's tirade stopped dead, pacified by the carress of the beautiful song freeing itself from the President's fingertips.

Rufus closed his eyes and gave himself to the divine music, countless sins in years of existence pouring out through eighty-eight little keys exploding with once dormant energy and life. For the first time since his adolescence, since that fated day his father destroyed his true love and forced him to give up his one passion, Rufus felt alive. Whole and complete. This was where he beloned. In a matter of minutes man and machine became one. He was back in his Promised Land.

"Mr. President? For you she's 1,000." Rufus slid the bar back down over the keys and rose, giving the fine oak one more carress before starting for the door.

"I think I'll pass. She deserves to fall in love with someone who can give her the attention she needs. Good evening." Even as he left and his fingers continued to drum out little rhythms against his leg as he walked, he knew there was no other love for him in this world.

There was no romance quite like that of a man and his ivory.


End file.
